Viking Born (Vikings Saga Volume 2)

by Grafford, Jo

  She touched her hand to his and then to her throat. "Sven!" she hissed. "My shell. It is gone." She sat up, squirming to loosen the layers of blankets. She flailed amidst them, searching blindly.

  "I took it," he admitted.

  "Oh." Her relief was instant. "Where is it?"

  He looked away. "Pray forgive me, Willow, if it was something precious to you. We used it, or rather my jarl's wife-to-be did, in a locater spell."

  "You allowed the witch to destroy my shell?" she choked.

  “Thanks to last week’s mer attack, our Jarl was not content to sail into the open waters today after finding a mermaid clinging to the bow. We were only trying to determine if you followed us."

  "If that is true..." Her eyes glazed with emotion. She swayed dizzily for a moment. "I cannot return to the sea. I am stranded here in mortal form.” The blanket slipped open further, revealing her legs.

  Her agonized scream woke every Viking on the ship.

  3

  Transformation

  Willow stared in shock at her legs, flexing them and wiggling her toes. Recognition slowly dawned across her features. Horror followed. She made no attempt to stand, though, instead drawing her knees up to her chest and re-wrapping the blankets around them.

  The sailors gawked at the transformation in Willow and relaxed in varying degrees, the frost seeping from their expressions. Speculation spread like a thirsty fire on dry kindling about how the mermaid had managed to turn herself into a human.

  "She gave up the sea for love of our bo’sun," more than one crewman muttered.

  "Aye, she is no longer a threat. Our bo’sun tamed her with the kiss of his dagger," another chortled. "I saw it for me-self."

  Sven poured the remaining brew that comprised Branwyn's locator spell over the side of the ship, carefully retrieving the scalded conch shell at the bottom of the cauldron. The colorful swirls were gone and its cord almost entirely dissolved. A covert glance over his shoulder revealed its owner still staring into the distance.

  Taking the conch from her had somehow wrenched her from her life beneath the sea. Would reuniting her with it return her to its watery depths? His conscious urged him to return the shell at once, that it was not his decision to make; but his logic argued he should first interrogate her again, that it was his duty to protect his crew from further mer hostilities. And he swore to himself his indecisiveness had nothing to do with his reluctance to part so soon with the beautiful creature wrapped in blankets beside the fire.

  The inner battle waged until he decided to pocket the shell. In time, he would figure out what to do with it.

  He proceeded to broil up a stew of crab, wild onions, and diced chunks of their remaining potato stores. When he offered Willow a mug of it, she recoiled from him and waved it away.

  "You must," he said firmly and pressed the mug into her hands anyway. "No doubt you are accustomed to vastly different fare as a daughter of the sea, but our humble meals aboard the longship will keep you alive."

  Sniffing and wrinkling her nose at the contents, she took a hesitant sip and made a soft choking sound. To her credit, she managed to swallow.

  "Again," he commanded.

  She glared at him and lifted the mug. A few more labored gulps and she set it on the deck between them. “No more.”

  "When you, er...have need of a chamberpot, let me know," he offered. Our Jarl's wife-to-be, Branwyn, possesses one in her tent.“

  With a puzzled expression, she shook her head. For the next hour, she stared white-faced and silent into the fire, clutching the edges of the blankets together.

  He sought out Eirik at the steerboard. Branwyn was at his side. "She does not eat much but seems well enough. More composed now that the first shock has passed."

  “Good.” Branwyn lowered her voice. “Alas, it does not explain the stirring of magic I feel in the air.”

  "That makes two of us." Eirik looped at arm around her waist and tugged her close enough to brush his lips across her temple. "I feel a stirring of magic each time I lay eyes on you, lass."

  She blushed and slid her arms around him, tipping her head up to gaze adoringly at her jarl and husband-to-be. The ceremony would take place when they arrived at New Dorset. She would be named his lady queen and healer of the realm. Eirik had announced his betrothal to the men days ago, and already they hailed her as 'my lady'.

  “It’s a benevolent presence," she murmured. "I am unsure if it follows our longship or watches over Willow, though I am inclined to think it has something to do with the latter."

  Eirik smoothed her hair back from her face. "So long as the presence remains benevolent, love, we will continue our plans to set our course westward. After the coming storm, of course."

  She nodded. “In the meantime, I will keep you informed of any changes in weather or magical matters." The promise earned her another kiss.

  "I will keep an eye on Willow," Sven offered, recalling how quickly the crewmen had been to brandish their weapons at her arrival.

  "So kind of you to volunteer," his brother noted dryly. "Saves me the trouble of delegating such a hardship upon any other member of the crew."

  He mockingly bent a knee. "There are times when sacrifices must be made, my lord."

  Branwyn's laughter pealed across the deck, eliciting smiles from all who heard her save one. The subject of their conversation.

  * * *

  Sven decided it was best to get some rest, since he would relieve Alf and resume his duties as bo’sun in the morning. He rolled out his blanket next to Willow, but she spared him not a glance.

  Far more concerned than tired, he sighed and propped his head on an arm. "You are the loveliest lass I've encountered on land or sea.” He spoke so softly he was unsure if she could hear him.

  The way her back stiffened, however, told him that she had.

  "Please understand we had no idea your conch shell is what made you mer," he pleaded. "I've traveled the world and never before seen or heard of such a talisman. I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive us.” And share how you came to possess such a gift.

  A tear slid from beneath her lashes at his words. It glistened like a diamond on her cheek, then disappeared in a tiny flash of light. A second tear rolled rapidly down her cheek and also disappeared with a twinkle.

  His jaw dropped. They were magical tears. He'd never witnessed such a phenomenon before, only heard of it. And believed it to be myth. He stared, awestruck, as a third crystalline tear vanished. "Fairy tears."

  She gulped and nodded. More gushed from her eyes. They came faster than they could be absorbed. A few clattered against the deck as gems and lay glistening in the firelight.

  Why in bloody tarnation would a fairy masquerade herself beneath the ocean as a mermaid?

  Moved by her sadness but even more alarmed by who might witness her it, he glanced around them hurriedly. He needed to stop her silent weeping, before anyone noticed. Out of desperation, he pulled himself to his knees and cupped her face in his hands.

  "I cannot bear to see you cry," he muttered and crushed his mouth to hers.

  Willow tasted of dewdrops and rainbows, sunny days and wonder. He drank in her warmth and light. For the first time in months, it was enough to push back the coldness weighing down the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.

  She fisted her hands in his tunic and clung to him, no longer crying. He could sense the change in her, the longing and the urgency. Her unexpected and utter lack of shyness emboldened him. Instinctively, he deepened the kiss, cupping her nape and thrusting his tongue against hers.

  He tasted pure Valhalla.

  She pulled away abruptly, panting. "There is much darkness in you."

  He chuckled. He’d all but forgotten her warning from earlier. Her ability to see things others did not want her to see. So much for any attempt at hiding his capacity to commune with ghosts. He didn't stand a chance at hiding much from a woman of her clairvoyant skills.

  "Yet you still want me.
" He gave an exultant smile.

  "You do realize the truth serum has long since worn off. I am no longer compelled to answer your questions, Viking."

  "Aye, but you kiss like a woman who wants to please her man."

  "And you kiss like a man overly skilled in pleasing his women."

  "I'll not be denying I hope to please you, my woodland sprite. But for now, my main concern is keeping you safe." He cast a furtive glance around them and scooped up the scattered tear-shaped gems into a small black sack. "Hide them," he urged, pressing them into her hand. "I've known men who would kill for these. Though I have no reason to distrust any of the crew in such matters, none were too thrilled when they recognized you earlier. Methinks it is best no one else knows exactly what you are. For now."

  "Why would you keep my secret?" she whispered, swaying towards him. "We just met."

  "You are my responsibility. I am the one who took your necklace, therefore 'tis my fault you are here.”

  "I see," she said sharply, straightening and tucking the small sac into the pocket of her white overdress. “I thank you."

  He instantly perceived he had said or done something wrong but knew not what.

  She picked at the rough weave of her blankets. ”I once told you I have no memories of my life before the City of Mer. Not of my name or where I am from or how I came to possess the conch shell—though my adoptive mother warned me endlessly about the perils of ever taking it off."

  "Again, pray forgive me for doing exactly that.” He inclined his head.

  She made a face. “Strange how the necklace never came off by accident or was ever borrowed or pilfered by one of my sisters. They were so good at snatching most everything else. Combs, silver plates, mirrors, rings...mostly combs. Now I know why," she sighed.

  "You do?" Understanding sank home. “What do you remember, lass?”

  She pressed a hand to her chest and fought to steady her breathing. "Everything."

  "Tell me," he begged.

  "Soon, but first I must rest. The transformation has been exhausting." Her eyelids drooped ,and her words began to slur.

  He reached for her as she slumped forward.

  "My new legs feel like they are full of pins and needles," she disclosed as her head tumbled against his shoulder. "The bones are still mending. Tomorrow I shall attempt to walk. Again."

  You have walked before?

  Sven could feel her essence slip away into the land of dreams. He laid her gently on the blankets, resisting the powerful urge to join her and throw his heavy cloak over them both.

  * * *

  Before morning broke, the storm rumbled atop them with a vengeance. Thick black clouds ripped and roared like angry wolves across the heavens between flashes of lightning.

  Willow shuddered awake as the Viking longship ceased its drifting and burst into activity. Men shouted and rowed with all their might for shore.

  Sven could only imagine how loud the thunder must sound to a mermaid accustomed to the muted cadence of life beneath the sea. She flinched with every crack of thunder and every blinding streak of lightning. He kept an eye on her while he directed his men to nose their craft towards a silvery strand of beach. Only when the men leaped out to pull the boat ashore did he reach for her.

  Hauling her into his arms, he ran with Eirik, Branwyn, and Alf up the coast to scope out the overhang of rocks beyond the tree line. Miracle of miracles! They discovered the yawning opening of a cavern in the stony wall. Branwyn, bless her, performed a glamor spell to dry each of the men's clothes as they straggled into the natural-hewn shelter. She cast a second spell to dry the soggy driftwood the thralls gathered to start a fire.

  Despite dry clothes and a fire, Willow was unable to get warm. Long after the men began to doze off again, she shivered uncontrollably beneath her borrowed, earth-colored gown and patchwork rabbit fur cloak from Branwyn. A quarter of an hour, perhaps a half hour passed. Unable to bear her misery any longer, Sven stalked from the mouth of the cave where he was keeping vigil to where she huddled beside the fire.

  "Lie with me," he muttered and carried her to the rear of the cavern into a smaller, separate alcove he'd discovered and claimed for his own bedroll. Possibly heated by an underground stream, the smooth clay floor was warm to the touch. The ceiling was low enough to require him to stoop to enter.

  She was still tightly bundled in her blankets, so he laid her gently on the warm floor and pulled his own blankets over the two of them as well as his cloak. Rolling to one side, he snuffed out the torch propped against the wall and pulled her against him. He curled his tall frame protectively around her and held her in place with an arm draped over her middle. Burying his face in her hair, he thought how no woman had ever fit him so perfectly. A man could die happy immersed in so much loveliness.

  Within moments, her teeth stopped chattering. She relaxed against Sven, melting into him and warming him so thoroughly that he drifted into an exhausted sleep.

  * * *

  Willow emerged from the green-drenched forest in a shimmer of sparks. A sunbeam seemed to follow her as she approached Sven.

  "Dance with me," she trilled in a musical language he had never before heard yet somehow understood.

  He hung back. "I cannot imagine these sea legs are worth much on a dance floor."

  "Do not speak so of the man I love," she admonished fiercely and danced across a patch of wildflowers into his arms. She drew his head down for a kiss that left him breathless.

  By Thor, he could not get enough of her. He deepened the kiss, stroking his tongue against hers in a wild mating that promised of more to come. Much, much more.

  Though he couldn’t dance to save his life or anyone else’s, they began to move together. Her arms remained loosely clasped about his neck as they stepped and spun to the rhythm of a hidden orchestra. Harps, violins, flutes, drums, and tinkling bells wove their magic until the air was filled with music.

  They swayed and spun slowly together at first. Then the music changed, and the tempo increased. She gave a delighted laugh. "Now fly with me."

  "Fly?" His brows rose.

  "You did not believe you could dance a few moments ago, either. Now look at you."

  The music and steps grew increasingly more complex, yet he amazingly and miraculously had no difficulty keeping up with his partner. They leaped and spun, dipped and whirled, and he found it no more difficult than breathing.

  When their feet slowly lifted from the ground, he was transfixed by the passion shimmering in her violet gaze. None of the wonders in the world could compare to the fathomless depths of love he saw there.

  * * *

  Sven shot to a sitting position, and the filmy webs of the vision evaporated. He shook his head, wanting to laugh aloud at the ludicrous image in his mind of a Viking parading like some popinjay across a dance floor. Never! 'Twas as if an elf had invaded his dreams to cause merry havoc.

  Willow rolled toward him and raised a hand to his chest. "Dance with me, Viking," she murmured.

  Her words stunned him. It was if they'd been sharing the same dream. He sucked in his breath as he took in her heavy-lidded appeal, sleep-tousled hair, and kissably-full lips.

  "Dance with me," she repeated. "Not as mermaid or fairy or human. Just man to woman, as we were meant to be." She untied the white ribbon that gathered the gauzy lace at her neckline and pulled it free of her bodice. Ignoring his huff of appreciation, she held his gaze in the glow of the twinkling lights that infused her hair, while she wove the ribbon around their clasped hands.

  "I pledge myself to you, Sven of the House of Baldr, for all eternity. I am yours, and you are mine."

  Great halls of thunder! She spoke the age-old words of a proper Viking hand fasting. She wanted to marry him? Him! A scarred-faced bastard and free peasant with nothing but the sweat of his brow to offer a mate. He had long since given up hope of finding a woman to share his life and make bairns with.

  "Ah, Willow," he groaned. "What are you thinking, lass
? I am but a man and you tempt me to take things I have no right to take.”

  Blue fire crackled between their clasped hands. For a moment, he was struck blind. A vision of eleven women, hands joined and forming a circle around the cavern, flashed across his mind. The vision winked out like a candle, and he was left gazing into the eyes of the siren arching her lithe, young frame against his.

  Our joining has nothing to do with rank or titles, my love.

  What did you say? He laced his fingers through hers, tightening his grip. The blue fire sparkled along their palms and travelled up his arm. He felt like he was floating, caught in her enthrall. Unless he was experiencing another dream—one more fantastical than the first—she was speaking to him without moving her lips or raising her voice. Impressing her thoughts on his mind and reading his in return.

  It was heady, overpowering, and wildly intimate.

  What is it about you, Sven? The look she gave him was as wistful and caressing as the sigh she feathered against his beard. I was yours for the taking the moment I laid eyes on you.

  Then he was atop her, pressing her deeper into the blankets, his hands and mouth everywhere. Her soft sound of surrender in his ear only made him ache for more. He tugged at the layers of fabric between them, desperate for the feel of her skin against his.

  If you are sure you want me. His groan was real, but he tried to muffle it against her neck. I pledge myself to you, Willow of the Wisps. I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.

  He would worry about the conch shell burning in his pocket another time. A much hotter fire burned in other parts of him right now, threatening to consume them both.

  The storm raged outside the cavern rendering them a modicum of privacy by muffling the sounds of their lovemaking. The winds wept and moaned over the thunderous cracking of trees as centuries-old sentinels fell.

  All the while, he plundered every secret, every treasure of his lovely mermaid-turned-maiden, claiming her body as thoroughly as she had claimed his soul.